


I keep killing Pippa LMFAO

by jazzayeet



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzayeet/pseuds/jazzayeet
Summary: Pippa is my OC.  She's a bean.  Which means I have to kill herAlso, half of these characters aren't even mine.  They're also OCs though.





	I keep killing Pippa LMFAO

Malachai woke up in a sterile white room, fluorescent light glaring all around him. How did he get here? Had someone drugged him? He felt drugged—groggy and immaterial. But as the room slowly came into focus, he saw an all too familiar head of red hair, and he tried to move towards her, only to feel something pulling on his shoulders. Handcuffs, he realized, with the chain tied fast to the wall, leaving only enough room for him to thrash against them. He saw Madeline on the other end of the room, similarly restrained, neither of them close enough to reach Pippa, who had a restraint of her own in the center of the room. She looked at him, meeting his eyes, and he was about to say her name when he heard the door to the room unlock and creak open, and his head snapped to look. “Oh, good, you’re all awake,” said a sing-song female voice. 

Athena. Malachai’s brow furrowed as she stepped towards him. “I must say, the company you choose to keep is...fascinating,” she mused. “I’d never think you, of all people, would associate yourself with blood traitors.” She shot a look at Pippa. “You see, to me, it seems quite simple—if someone believes in something as heinous as what these people believe in, I cut them off. No one forced you to  _ try _ to be the girl’s father. You could’ve chosen better. You could’ve chosen your cause, but you chose  _ her _ .” 

She walked over to Pippa, cupping her cheek with her hand. “It’s so strange to think that someone as pretty as this could come from someone like you,” she said, looking over to Malachai. “A great brute of a man like you… I never would’ve guessed.” She gently ran her hand down Pippa’s cheek. “Suppose she takes after her mother, right? Oh, but she does have your eyes, that gorgeous blue.” She paused for a moment to chuckle. “After I was arrested, I spent hours thinking about how to destroy you,” she said, this time directly to Pippa. I thought about throwing you in front of a train, but then I thought that would be too easy—a slip as small as you would shatter against a moving train. I thought about hacking your friend—what was his name? Spencer?—” Madeline thrashed against her handcuffs. “—and making him tear you apart. That’s a fair bit of poetic justice, I thought, having the last thing you felt be fear of someone you thought was family. Maybe in your last moments, you’d realize that I was right all along; androids can never be family.”

Pippa shook her head. “You’re wrong,” she said. 

Athena laughed and went on. “But then I realized there was a better way. Why should you be the only one who suffers for your actions?” 

Pippa’s eyes widened with panic as she looked first to Maddy, then to Malachai, thrashing against her handcuffs. “Don’t you fucking dare—” she spat. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to touch them,” Athena said. She pulled a piece of metal from her pocket, thick and coated with grime. “I don’t want to think about where this thing’s been.” she said, holding it up to the light. “Or what this is on it.” She moved behind Pippa and ran her fingers lightly over her left arm, tracing the scar she’d left the first time they’d met with her ring finger. Then, she dug the metal in and dragged it slowly down Pippa’s forearm, producing a pained cry and a gush of blood that quickly began to pool at Pippa’s feet. 

She put the metal away and pulled out a safety pin, weaving it into and out of the skin on both sides of the gash and using it to draw the edges together and close the wound. Pippa clenched her jaw against the scream that tried to part her mouth, trying to jerk her arm away but having nowhere to go.

Maddy screamed, “STOP IT!” Athena looked at her and laughed as Pippa slumped against the wall, quietly crying in pain. 

“That should stop the bleeding,” Athena said, stepping back. “We wouldn’t want her dying so easily.” She looked at the two adults. “I want you both to know the pain of watching the person you care about more than anything else die while you are powerless to so much as hold them, let alone dream of saving them.” 

She walked over to Malachai, who strained and thrashed against the handcuffs. “ _ I’ll kill you _ .” He snarled, his eyes shining with rage. And he meant it. He didn’t care that she was a woman or that she was over a decade younger than he was; he wanted to put his hands around her throat. He looked at Pippa, propped up against the wall, sitting in a pool of blood and cradling her forearm to her chest.. “I swear to god, _ I’ll fucking kill you _ .” 

Athena smirked at him. “You made your choice; she made hers, now you both have to face the consequences. Your daughter will die right in front of you, and you will be powerless to help her.” She walked towards the door. “I’d suggest getting comfortable. There’s no way to know how long this’ll take. Could be hours, could be days.” she shrugged. “Enjoy the show.” With that, she left, closing and locking the door behind her. 

“Pippa—” Malachai struggled against the handcuffs, trying to reach her. He saw Madeline on the other side of the room, trying to do the same. And Pippa already looked pale, leaning against the wall in the center of the room. “Pippa, c’mon.” She lifted her head to look at him, eyes tired and teary with pain. “It’s gonna be alright. Just keep your eyes open. You’re fine.” He heard Madeline thrashing violently against her chains, trying in vain to reach Pippa before giving up and dropping to sit on the floor, tears running down her cheeks. 

The next several days both dragged on and raced past, leaving the three of them dizzy and hurting. Pippa slowly started to get some of her strength back over the course of the first day. She was able to stand, if shakily, and she spoke with Madeline and Malachai.

“How’s—uh—your friend’s wife?” She asked, “What’s her name?” 

“Selda? She’s good.” Malachai answered. 

“Good.” Pippa turned to Maddy, then. “I’m gonna be there for your wedding,” she said, voice both weak and determined. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Maddy said, forcing a smile.

On the second day, she started to get worse. The cut on her arm turned first red, then purple, and the purple had already started to spread by the time a tray of food was pushed through holes in the wall for each of them, as if any of them had the stomach to eat. They didn’t sleep, either. Malachai didn’t think he could forgive himself if Pippa died alone because he was asleep. He didn’t know when it was night and when it was morning. 

On the third, Pippa’s skin started to slough off, each movement seeing more skin shedding. She threw up a few times. As the hours slipped by, the sickly purple splotches kept spreading, moving from her arm to her chest and leaving Pippa shivering on the floor. It didn’t take long for her skin to shine with sweat, and each day saw her turning even more pale than before.

She started hallucinating that night. Crying, mumbling to herself, eyes fixed on something Malachai couldn’t see. And he could do nothing but watch. He tried to call out to her, to ground her, but she didn’t seem to hear him saying her name. He wondered what it was she was seeing to leave her this scared.

The fourth day came, and the skin that hadn’t yet turned the color of deoxidized, coagulated blood was as white as a sheet, and she was too weak to hold herself up anymore. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and even something as basic as keeping her eyes open seemed to take a great deal of energy. Energy she didn’t have. More time passed; she kept getting worse. 

Then she started bleeding out of her nose. She coughed, and blood came out of her mouth; the wound leaked blood through the safety pin; it came out of her ears. Malachai looked up at her and threw himself against the chains. “Pippa?!” 

She turned her head to look at him. “I’m so cold,” she whispered. Malachai froze, looking at Madeline, who was also trying to work herself out of the handcuffs. He knew he had to get out. He’d already failed to protect her; he’d be damned if he let her die like this, cold and afraid and alone. He spun around and grabbed the knot around the chain, slowly working it apart until he fell away from the wall. Turning, he smashed his hands into the wall, breaking his handcuffs open before running over to help Madeline out of hers. Once she was free, he rushed to Pippa, unlocking hers as well. She didn’t react at all; in fact, she didn’t seem to have noticed. He rolled her onto her back, hearing her mumble something he couldn’t make out, something that didn’t sound like words. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood off of her face, and she seemed at least vaguely aware of his presence. He looked at her—at her arm. If he got her to a hospital, they could isolate the infection, even if that meant amputating—they could give her a prosthetic that would work just as well; she could survive this. They just needed to get to a hospital. 

He walked over to the door and tried to rattle the knob. It was locked. Of course, it had been for days. He kicked the door as hard as he could, but it didn’t budge; he kicked it again, nothing, a third time, nothing. “C’mon!” He shouted. Finally, as physical fatigue started to catch up with him, he realized he couldn’t get the door open. They were stuck in here, and he could hear Pippa’s ragged, painful breathing, Maddy trying to comfort her. Sighing, he turned around and walked back to her, dropping to his knees beside her and reaching out to pull her into his arms. Madeline knelt on the other side of him, holding Pippa’s hands with one of her own and using the other to smooth her hair.

“I’m…” The words came out soft and weak, as if they’d frayed apart on their way out of her throat, “...s-sorry…”

Malachai shook his head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, voice as steady and as gentle as he could muster; he had never been known for his warmth, but... She looked so tired. “It’s alright, Pippa, we’re here.”

“We’re right here,” Maddy echoed, smoothing Pippa’s hair out of the sweat on her forehead. 

“You can…” Malachai cleared his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of the lump that had formed. “You can sleep.” He heard Maddy sob next to him. 

He could’ve sworn he heard Pippa murmur, “I…” 

And nothing came after that.   
  
She fell still, and he found himself staring into her eyes, but they weren’t seeing him. Her head, resting in the crook of his arm, was far heavier than it had any right to be, the flow of blood from her nose slowing to a gentle seep. He shook her once, trying to stir her. “Pippa.  _ Pippa _ .” He shook her again, this time with more insistence. As understanding flooded him, he froze. Time seemed to have stopped passing entirely.

He heard the painful whimper of realization from next to him as Maddy’s grip tightened on Pippa’s limp hand, holding it against her cheek. He saw her eyes widen with horror at how cold her hand was. Her lips parted in a painful scream that felt as though the earth was shaking, being ripped apart. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Pippa’s, sobbing.

Malachai felt tears stinging at his own eyes as he reached to coax the lids over hers, moving to hold his daughter closer.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard the lock click and the door open. Malachai looked up, the breath catching in his throat as his eyes met Marc’s, watching the general’s face turn pale as he brought a hand to cover his nose and mouth. Malachai hadn’t noticed the smell—the stench of rotting flesh and vomit and blood, and even now, it was easy to block it out. Maybe because he’d spent the last four days with it. Marc stepped to the side to allow a Native American man—Enapay, Malachai recognized him—to step into the doorway, eyes going wide at the sight. 

“Selda, call 911.” Marc said over his shoulder, “Tell them we’ve got two people who’ve been without food, water, or sleep for four days.”  _ Four days. Had it really been that long? _ Enapay walked into the room, Marc following after him. Malachai watched as Enapay put his hands on Madeline’s shoulders and gently drew her away from the lifeless teenager, allowing her to turn and sob into his shoulder. Marc, meanwhile, knelt in front of Malachai and frowned. “I’m sorry, Mal,” he said, “I should’ve…”

“Four days.” Malachai said. “We were in here for four fucking days. She was  _ dying _ for four fucking days. You should’ve done something.” 

“Mal, I—”

“If you’d gotten here sooner, she’d still be alive,” Malachai shot back. 

And then, another figure appeared at the doorway, asking, “What happened here?” Athena. The only human Malachai could say he hated with every single fiber of his being. He heard a sound from Madeline, halfway between a scream of rage and a sob, and he silently felt the same. A part of him wanted to lunge at Athena, wanted to wrap his fingers around her throat and watch her turn blue. And he could’ve. It was all he could do to resist the urge; instead, he held Pippa tighter against his chest, moving his arms as if to shield her from Athena.  _ Don’t hurt her again. _

Marc’s brow furrowed as he looked at Malachai, then back at Athena, and he stood up, turning to face her. “Do you care to explain what the fuck happened here?”

“None of your fucking business.” Athena answered.

“My colonel’s been locked here for four days. I think it is my business.”

Malachai saw hate flicker in her eyes as she looked at Pippa’s listless form in his arms. “Do you know what pain this woman’s caused me?” She spat. “Do you have any idea what she’s done to me? She deserved worse than this. I would’ve sat here and slowly peeled her skin off if I’d had the time. I settled for this.”

There was a pause as Marc shot a pointed look down to Malachai and Pippa, then to Athena. “Get out.” He said softly. He raised his voice to repeat himself. "Get. Out."

“You can’t do this,” Athena retorted.

“ _You murdered a child._ " Malachai could hear the anger in Marc’s response. “You tortured three humans, one of them to death.  _ We don’t. Kill. Humans. _ ” 

“Marc, I—”

“Call the police,” Marc said, turning back to Selda. “Tell them we have the perpetrator.”

Then Athena took off running, pushing Selda out of her way. Marc stared after her. “Police’ll catch up with her soon,” he said. Then, paramedics came in with two stretchers, lifting Madeline onto one. Malachai shook his head as they tried to do the same, and Marc grabbed his arm. “Let her go.” he said.

Malachai couldn’t. But, slowly, he did, gently setting her on the ground. The paramedics arrived, lifting him onto a gurney and loading him into an ambulance.    
  
“Marc?” he said, “Promise me she’ll pay for this.”  
  
Before Marc could answer, the ambulance doors closed.


End file.
